Touch

Often I find myself,
Wanting to touch your face.
To rub my hands through your hair…
But I know it’s not my place.

I feel like I’m in a race.
A race against time.
For all I want to say and do,
For someone whose not mine.

Why hold my hand
On the nights I cannot sleep?
Why pull me tight,
But say I think too deep?

No, there’s not regret.
I’d do it all again.
I can’t say I’ve been used,
When it all was for a friend.

And when the sun goes down,
We say that we don’t care.
When you’re drunk you say, ‘I love you’.
But in the morning you’re not there.

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